


Sucker

by princesskennedy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, F/M, Sex, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 06:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18773380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskennedy/pseuds/princesskennedy
Summary: I'm a sucker for you. SBHG





	Sucker

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first smut I've written. Actually, the first SBHG I've written, come to think of it. Rest assured, I've been Sirius/Hermione shipper for a long time, and have finally worked up the courage to post a one-shot! So, please be kind when reviewing, otherwise keep them to yourselves. Thank you!
> 
> Rated R.  
> Rated G: /s/13282324/1/Sucker

Sirius Black was known for his drunken escapades.

Whether it was breaking out of Azkaban prison; Hogwarts castle; or Number 12, Grimmauld Place, he could always be counted on to bring a bottle alongside with him, for the trip; not to mention, his trusty motorcycle that he had bought the summer before his fifth year.

Sirius Black was known for his drunken escapades.

Hermione Granger was known for her fail-proof plans.

Whether it was breaking out of Gringotts Wizarding Bank; the wedding for Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour; or Number 12, Grimmauld Place, she could always be counted on to bring her two best friends, Harry Potter and Sirius Black, alongside with her, for the trip; not to mention, her trusty cat named Crookshanks, that she had bought in the summer before her third year.

Hermione Granger was known for her fail-proof plans.

But what both Sirius Black and Hermione Granger weren't known for: was their relationship, together. What they didn't know yet, either: was that this relationship would change their lives, forevermore and in ways not yet foreseen.

.

.

The Order of the Phoenix, not for the first time, all were within a meeting; Sirius Black, not for the first time, was bored out of his mind. Sirius had already gone through this, time and time before, more than he could count: members who were both of the Order of the Phoenix as well as the Ministry of Magic, would report on the activity within their own department. The senior members of the group would then confer upon the report, themselves, headed by their leader, Albus Dumbledore. For within this meeting, their main source had been Sturgis Podmore, until he had ominously vanished from both the Order and the Ministry.

 _No one cares about my opinion,_ Sirius thought, _All they care about is me staying put like a good dog and wasting away the rest of my life in another Azkaban—whoops, 'The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.'_

As he had told his godson, Harry Potter, the most Sirius could do for the Order was for them to use his ancestral manor as Headquarters. But, even that hadn't done much to change his life as he had hoped it would have. Aside from the Order meetings that were held at random in order to lessen the opportunity for someone else to become a traitor, Mrs. Weasley had her children, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger cleaning house every day until they were to return to Hogwarts, and Mrs. Weasley, the Burrow.

 _Even_ Kreacher _puts in more work than I do,_ Sirius thought, with no less amount of bitterness than before, _It must be getting bad if I'm jealous of my own House-elf._

Nevertheless, there was one string of light that had broken through the darkness of his world. This string of light had brightened the other side to his life, like nothing he had ever seen before. He could get through anything with this lightness, for it symbolized the love he felt for one witch: Hermione Granger.

.

.

Just as Sirius had poked his head into the grate of fire, through the fireplace of the Gryffindor House Common Room, he had caught Hermione Granger saying, ". . .do that now, it'd be too—Sirius!" She had gasped, and the sixth Weasley boy, Ron, had dropped his quill, from his hand to the floor; of the three of them, only his own godson had looked unfazed, as Sirius adjusted to the view of the common room.

"I was starting to think you'd go to bed before everyone else had disappeared," he said. "I've been checking every hour."

"You've been popping into the fire every hour?" said Harry.

"But what if you'd been seen?" said Hermione anxiously.

"Well, I think a girl — first year by the look of her — might've got a glimpse of me earlier, but don't worry," Sirius said hastily, as Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth. "I was gone the moment she looked back at me and I'll bet she just thought I was an oddly shaped log or something."

"But Sirius, this is taking an awful risk —" Hermione began.

"You sound like Molly," said Sirius. "This was the only way I could come up with of answering Harry's letter without resorting to a code — and codes are breakable."

 _She may sound like Molly,_ thought Sirius. _But she looks like Hermione: brightest witch of her age, the future Mrs. Black…_

The Golden Trio were at a lone table in a long-deserted common room, late into the night, working at their school assignments, Sirius would have presumed, if it hadn't been for the curiously-torn up letter in quarters, upon the table, squarely in front of them. He, Sirius, himself, had been prepping for the conversation he would have with his godson and his two best friends. He was torn between letting go with his thoughts of Hermione, and toe-ing the line, as it were, of thoughts about an underage witch who belonged to his equally-aged godson.

Between his mulling and scattered thoughts on the Muggle-born witch, she had already a hasty exchange with Harry, before he'd said, "…was there, Sirius?"

"No, it was very good," said Sirius with a smile. "Anyway, we'd better be quick, just in case we're disturbed — your scar."

He, Sirius, and Harry had embarked upon a conversation of Voldemort, their new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Umbridge, Fudge and the Ministry and Magic. But as Sirius entertained these topics with his godson, his mind couldn't help but linger upon his godson's best friend, instead. He would much rather be talking to Hermione, he thought, than to Harry about Dolores Umbridge, of all people.

She belongs to your godson, he thought, not for the first time. What if they end up married? Then what will you be able to do about it?

Finally, Hermione had interrupted their conversation.

"What has she got against werewolves?!" Hermione exclaimed angrily.

"Scared of them, I expect," Sirius commented with a smile at his godson's best friend. "Apparently she loathes part-humans; she campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged last year too. Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose—"

Although the Weasley boy had laughed, Hermione glared reproachfully at him. "Sirius!" she admonished. "Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher I'm sure he'd respond, after all, you are the only member of his family he's got left, and Professor Dumbledore said—"

Sirius had cut her off before she could finish her charged rant toward him; although he would have loved to debate upon the topic of Kreacher with her, he was acutely aware that he didn't have much more time to spend with his godson and best friends. He had informed them of their inside knowledge about Fudge's motivations; Harry, Ron, and Hermione reacted with surprise, disbelief, and incredulity, respectively.

"So," surmised Hermione, "we're being prevented from learning Defense Against the Dark Arts because Fudge is scared we'll use spells against the Ministry?" demanded Hermione, both outraged and self-righteous.

"Yep," agreed Sirius, "Fudge thinks Dumbledore will stop at nothing to seize power. He's getting more paranoid about Dumbledore by the day. It's a matter of time before he has Dumbledore arrested on some trumped-up charge."

Harry had requested an update from Sirius about Hagrid, the Gamekeeper of Hogwarts, and, besides Sirius himself, another father figure to his godson. Sirius had no updates to give, unfortunately, and his heart almost broke for the disappointed and worried mixture upon her face.

"Listen," beseeched Sirius, "don't go asking too many questions about Hagrid. It'll just draw even more attention to the fact that he's not back, and I know Dumbledore doesn't want that. Hagrid's tough, he'll be okay."

As the subject moved away from that of Hagrid, no matter how reluctantly from the Golden Trio, Sirius had thought to suggest another visit, but at Hogsmeade Village, during one of their breaks; he knew that Harry, thanks to his signed form, had now been finally allowed to visit there. But both Harry and Hermione had soundedly rejected this: their excuse being something about Lucius Malfoy and their visit to the station that day. So what if Lucius Malfoy figured out my identity at King's Cross? Sirius thought. Harry, Ron and Hermione will let that stop me from meeting with them?

"You're less like your father than I thought," Sirius said, after a moment. "The risk would've been what made it fun for James."

"Look —"

"Well, I'd better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs. I'll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?"

And then he had disappeared from the fireplace; the Golden Trio had been left to themselves, to study and reflect upon what Sirius Black had just enlightened them with.

.

.

Sirius had made sure to keep out of the way of his house guests, the Weasley family, all of whom were awaiting news of their father, who had gotten injured during a stake-out at one of Voldemort's known locations. His godson was also there, seeing as he was the one who had tipped off Dumbledore that Mr. Weasley had been in trouble in the first place. But he found he couldn't keep out of their way for long, for the one guest he had crossed paths with, turned out to be none other than Hermione Granger, herself.

"Mr. Black? Are you alright?"

"I'm just dandy," Sirius replied gruffly.

"Sure you are," said Hermione tartly.

All of a sudden, the polluted air seemed to press in on himself, tightening his chest until he couldn't breathe, feeling as if the walls around had been closing in on himself. Scrambling out of his seat, he ducked toward the cabinet that had his stash of alcohol.

"Want one?" he offered to the underage schoolgirl at the table. She'd made a great show of looking around for someone else he may have offered to.

"Oh, no," Hermione said, "I'm not of age yet."

"Bollocks," said Sirius mildly. "Between you and me, this never happened."

Before Hermione could object anymore, he made a grab for one of the bottles, and slid it across the table toward her. By way of response, Hermione took a sip, perhaps defiantly, and choked on it, an instant later. A grin sported on Sirius' face.

I'll cut her some slack, he thought. I wasn't any better with my own first Firewhiskey.

"How do you drink this stuff every day?" Hermione grumbled. She eyed the bottle with more suspicion this time, and pushed it away from her.

"How do you know I drink this stuff every day?" Sirius wanted to know, with the raise of his eyebrows.

"What else do you have to do with your time?"

"Point taken."

"Anyway, not that I'm not enjoying this and all, but isn't Harry the one who's your godson?"

"Sure he is. Aren't you the one who's his best mate?"

"That would be Ron. You know, the—"

"—youngest Weasley boy, yes, I do. But if you ever sat in on an Order meeting, you'd be surprised at the ratio of men to women there. Not often do I get to talk to a witch as pretty as you."

He had turned on the charm, and although Hermione Granger was a very smart, if not the smartest schoolgirl he'd met, she was still just a schoolgirl, and not yet immune of the 'good ol' charm.'

 _Got you right where I want you,_ Sirius thought, still grinning.

"What do you think has happened to Mr. Weasley? Do you think he'll be alright?" asked Hermione, once they had both recovered from the sudden change in dynamic.

"The poor bloke will be just fine once they've sorted him out. This wouldn't have happened if he hadn't been in the Order in the first place."

"Without Mr. Weasley, we wouldn't know what was happening inside the Ministry," Hermione pointed out. "Whatever happens, I trust Professor Dumbledore."

"Of course you do," muttered Sirius.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"There must be something you disagree with. I don't mean just Dumbledore in general. You're not just 'Harry's best friend', you can be your own person too, you know."

"Gee, I had no idea my name was Hermione Granger, and not Hermione Potter. But yes, there does happen to be something I disagree with."

"And what would that be?"

"H.E.L.P."

"…Which would be…what?"

"'House-Elf Liberation Front. It would have been longer, except that I needed the badges to leave some more room for other things. Oh, don't give me that look; you'll come 'round sooner or later, just as both Harry and Ron had."

There was no time for any more of a reaction from the other, for Mrs. Weasley had just come into the dining room; Sirius had hastened to clear out the table of the extra bottle, but it turned out he needn't have bothered, for Mrs. Weasley had just informed them that she and her family would be staying the rest of the night, and perhaps for even longer.

After confirming Harry's dream, they had retrieved Mr. Weasley's seemingly-lifeless body from the scene of the crime, and had transported him to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's Hospital. Sirius had agreed to let them stay for as long as they needed to, and would make the arrangements for them to meet their father as soon as he was well enough.

In the back of his mind, he'd realized one thing: 

_It looks like any chance I had with Hermione had ended, right there and then, for I doubt Mrs. Weasley will be letting Hermione out of her sight, anytime soon._

.

.

Sirius Black had gotten out of his bedroom as if the Manor had been set on fire. That would be a lie, he corrected himself. If the Manor had really been set on fire, he would get himself out just as quickly and leave everything to burn down from where it stood. He wouldn't give a damn, as the Manor meant just that to him: nothing. As soon as he made his way outside, however, much to his disappointment, the Manor did not seem to have been set on fire. But then, he wondered, what had woken himself up, in the middle of the night, as it were?

Lighting the borrowed wand he had gotten from a nice Order member through Dumbledore, he made his way from the bedroom and toward the main sitting room. Perhaps it was Harry, thought Sirius, with another dream from Voldemort; it could be something, or someone, else. Upon a whim, he stuck his head right through the Fireplace, and was amazed to see his second theory had proved to be correct: it had been someone else, not Harry Potter, who had woken him up: Harry's best friend, Hermione Granger.

"Hermione? Is that you? What are you doing here in the middle of the night? It's not Harry, is it?"

"No. It's not Harry; it's me."

"Okay. . . what is wrong with you, then?"

"Nothing is wrong with me. You're everywhere, Mr. Black, if you don't mind me saying; and I can't get you out of my head. Oh, don't listen to me; you probably think I'm nothing but a scarlet woman. You needn't stay any longer; goodnight, Mr. Black." But before she could make the full turn around, back to where she had come from, sparks had flown from Sirius' wand, and a smile had made its' way onto his face. "And just what do you think you're smiling for, Sirius Black?"

"From when we had first met," explained Sirius, "I had thought you were just like Lily. Never had I done so, more than this moment, now."

"You mean Mrs. Potter, don't you? Harry's mother?"

"The one and same. The same intelligence. . . blood status. . . even her spirit. It's as if I'm looking into the mirror of her spitting image."

"You flatter me. Truly, you do, Mr. Black. But that has nothing to do with the matter at hand."

"Er. . . what would that be again?"

"You have taken over my mind, like an obsession. Do you feel the same way? Or should we go our separate ways?"

"But. . . but. . . You're fifteen! I'm thirty-five!"

"Tonks is twenty-two. Lupin is thirty-five. They're thirteen years apart, whereas you and I are only nine; I've done the calculations."

"Not just that! What do we have in common? I have baggage — and — and — your best friend is my godson!"

"Lupin has told all of this to Tonks, the same, word-for-word; I would know. And yet Tonks still loves him."

A monster of rage had grown from his chest and invaded the rest of his body, and yet Hermione was the picture of calm, against his calamidity.

Hermione may think she knows the answer to this relationship, Sirius thought, but she doesn't, and I don't think I do, myself. I can hardly accept her proposal, but nor can I reject her anymore, like this. What should I do?

So, he took a deep breath in order to calm himself down, and stared her right in the face.

"You may be right about Tonks and Remus," Sirius said, "but how are you right about us?"

"I compared us to Tonks and Remus," explained Hermione, "because I am in the same position as Tonks, now, in our relationship together; as well as you, with Lupin. Tonks still isn't any closer to Lupin as she was at the beginning of the year. I may as well get started on you as soon as I can, shall I?"

"We don't know how much time we have left together," Sirius pointed out, quietly. "Neither do Tonks and Lupin."

"That may be true," said Hermione. "But you know what else is?"

"What?"

"I will never give up on you, Mr. Black," Hermione promised, looking deadly serious as she picked herself up and made to turn away from the fireplace. She stopped dead in her tracks and craned her neck so that she looked back at him. "Oh, and Mr. Black?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you be willing to go out with me at Hogsmeade?"

"Uh. . . sure," Sirius said, feeling very much as if he were twelve years old once again and on his first date.

In lieu of a response, Hermione offered a bright, wide smile of flashing, white teeth. Then, Sirius Black was left alone at the fireplace, until he remembered to pull his head back in, lest any Gryffindor spotted Sirius Black and ran for a teacher.

Sirius Black was going out on a date with Hermione Granger.

What he didn't know yet, and neither did she, was that, that one date would change the rest of their lives both forevermore and in ways not yet foreseen.

.

.

It was the day of the Hogsmeade date, for Hermione Granger and Sirius Black. The former had been waiting for the latter for about an hour, at that point. Her Butterbeer, emptied long ago, had already gone cold, and so had she, on the inside. The long wait had made her rethink her decision: for this date, for her relationship with Sirius, and for her sanity, as well. What had she been thinking? That Sirius Black would really be her knight in shining armor? That he would be her Romeo, her Don Juan, her Casanova? That he would sweep her off her feet, and ride into the sunset, happily ever after? This was why she didn't believe in fairytales, because in the end, they were just stories. And so would this date be: a story never finished, a story with a false ending to a promising beginning. Just as Hermione made to get up from her seat and leave The Three Broomsticks, something cold and wet nudged her from behind.

She had whipped around with her wand out, without even a thought, but it only turned out to be a dog. Hermione relaxed, and the dog stared at her, letting out a keening whine as if he had been offended that she would resort to doing such a thing toward it. Don't be silly, she told herself, as if that dog could actually speak to humans…

And then, the dog had knocked her out of the way and rushed in the direction of the lavoratory. Hermione pursed her lips in a reminiscent way of Professor McGonagall, before following the dog. She realized that it was in the shape of a Grim: a great big black dog with shaggy fur, an enormous tail, and sparkling eyes. Just as much as she believed dogs had no sentience, she did not believe in Divination nor the Grim in itself. But something, perhaps pure instinct, had made her follow the dog, and so she did, albeit gripping her wand tightly, all the while.

As soon as the door had shut behind her—they had gone into the boys' bathroom, so the dog was obviously a male, neither of which mattered much to Hermione—the dog had leaped at her, and Hermione had thought, in spite of her wand and battle-readiness, she had been done for. But then, the paws upon her chest and shoulders were transformed into hands, and a very familiar gaze was staring her right in the face: from a human body.

"Sirius?" Hermione croaked. "I thought you were never coming! What did you think you were doing, coming up behind me as a dog of all things?"

"I thought you had already known we were Animagi," Sirius said, "Me, Lupin, and Harry's father," he added, to Hermione's inquiring eyes.

"I did," Hermione said, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes into a glare, "but not in the same moment I was abducted from The Three Broomsticks! You could have been a Death Eater under the guise of Polyjuice Potion, for Merlin's sake!"

"Oh, right, the security question." Sirius coughed, and in a dead serious tone complete with a poker face, he went on: "What did you say to me, back at Grimmauld Place, when Mr. Weasley was injured?"

"Any specific line?" Hermione prompted.

"'What did you disagree with as Hermione Granger, your own person?'"

"'The slavery of House-elves and their current position as the care-takers of purebloods and their families,'" Hermione recited, as if from a textbook.

"Way to go all 'Professor Black, Care of Magical Creatures' on me," grumbled Sirius, rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache, and Hermione huffed at him. "In any case, shall we enter one of the stalls? I wouldn't want to be caught dead by the Aurors like this. Or Death Eaters," he added with a leer, and Hermione swatted him on the shoulder. Sirius had heard Hermione had a mean right hook, and was glad that, for the moment, she was playful with him.

"Do you really mean to go into one of those?" Hermione wrinkled her nose in disdain. "Why couldn't you have used the girls' bathroom? No one would ever think to check a dog's sex."

"Yes, I do," Sirius confirmed diffidently. "And yes, they would, especially if that dog had turned into a human, right before their eyes. You do know I'm unregistered?"

"No, I didn't!" said Hermione sharply. "What have we to do here, anyway?"

"We'll never get anything done if we keep on like this," sighed Sirius. "I'd wanted to do things to you, Hermione. I've wanted to do them to you since—well, not from when we'd met, since Moony had forgotten to take his potion that night. But I would say, afterward, was when I had fallen in love with you. Merlin, if I could only take you away and marry you on an island, far away. . . that would be the dream, right there."

Throughout his speech, Hermione hadn't been able to take her eyes off of him.

"So, where does that leave us now, Mr. Black?"

"I think we're long past that, now aren't we, Miss Granger?"

Sirius and Hermione had rushed toward one of the stalls; locked the door behind themselves; Hermione had cast an Undetectable Spell on themselves, not unlike the spell Dumbledore had used, back in Harry's first year, in front of the Mirror of Erised; Sirius, in turn, had cast Muffliato within their own stall, as well as a impenetrable locking charm on the bathroom stall; and they were ready to go.

At first, Sirius and Hermione had only kissed together, tongues reaching in each others' mouths as far as they could go, lips hot and heady against each others'. Sirius, for the first time in his life, had held back, because he was unsure how far Hermione had wanted, or was ready to go. But Hermione had made clear the extent of her willingness went, when she bent down to unbotton his jeans, and practically rip away his shirt, were it not for the assistance of his own hands lifting it over his head, and tossing it to the ground, along with his pants. For one last time, he hesitated as his hands fumbled with the hem of his underwear. She gave him a look not to be trifled with, and he obliged by sliding the underwear down his legs. By that time, she had already undressed, herself.

Sirius pressed himself against Hermione, slamming her into the stall, dick splayed at an awkward angle against her sex. With one last nod of consent, he inched himself away from her, until he'd positioned his dick within his hands and inserted it into her sex. First a prolonged moan had escaped Hermione, then it had tranformed into a yell, from her throat and out of her mouth. He pumped his dick, more and more, whispering nothings, going further and further until she could take it no more; she had fallen to her knees, begging for him to go harder, deeper, and further inside her, not climaxing under he had gone as far as needed.

He knew he'd finally climaxed when a screech had ripped away from her throat, tearing itself up just as his dick tore up her sex, on the inside. They weren't themselves anymore; both of them were in another world, Heaven, Eternality, whatever you called it; they had anchored themselves to that place of ectasty and happines inside their minds, and they were connected by a single thread weaved by the finest golds, silvers, and other precious metals of the world.

It was some time later that they'd both returned to the real world. Clothes strewn around them; Hermione leaning on top of Sirius, who was sitting on the toilet; their private parts stretched, red and raw of the skin around them; but their eyes had glazed over, with their hair all trussed and messed up, the air smelling of both of them, something of which no spell could disguise. Once they regained control over themselves and caught their breath, they separated their bodies from each other, picked up their clothes, and put them back on.

Then, they had finally walked out of the stall, one after the other with a good deal of time apart from each other. They had agreed, beforehand, to depart from the Three Broomsticks in their separate ways, so that they could leave undetected, and with their own dignities intact.

However, it would be a night neither of them would forget, for the rest of their lives. For that had only been the calm before the storm; the storm in which not only Harry Potter had lost his godfather, but Hermione Granger had lost her lover, to a Death Eater by the name of Bellatrix Lestrange.


End file.
